No where to run
Choices are what we have because we are a successful socio-political system. No where better exemplified than when shopping. In Waitrose because you have a choice. Own or established brand, cheapest or most expensive, something you know or something knew. The mind as a computer whirrs around. The roulette ball rests , a choice has been made.
Then there is the queue. Self service or regular check out. You can do self service but whenever you do there is a complication. So today because both queues are long you go for the manned tills. Why is whatever queue you choose is the wrong one? Are there others who always choose the right queue?
Behind me in the queue is a man. Big 30-40. But. He hasn’t got a basket, he has nothing in his hand. The mind whirrs. He wants a cash back, but there are cash machines every where. Maybe he is going to hold the place up. Maybe under that over coat there is a cosh or something worse. So this is it.
All my life I have fantasised about the “Oh shucks it was nothing moment”. The “I did what any one else would do” interview.”Look how could I just stand by” modesty. I can feel the adrenaline rising, the old heart is beginning to tick up.
I decide to take my time at the check out. To watch over the stranger in the queue. I’ll rush him from behind hoping that pushing him up against the till will be such a shock that it will be game set and match.
He approaches the till. I’m ready. The big game hunter sees the lion walking into the clearing. The sniper sees the terrorist make a move. He starts to speak.
A packet of lights and a box of matches please. I flee in panic, no one wants to dies of passive smoking.